


A Year In Motion: Always in April

by Miss_Mil



Series: A Year In Motion [4]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6315070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mil/pseuds/Miss_Mil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I thought this would be the easy part, you know,’ Sam states, flicking bits of invisible dirt from the back of the arm chair. Her fingers are slender and pale in the dim lights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Year In Motion: Always in April

**Author's Note:**

> Ahoy all. I apologise for the delay in the updates, but the real world calls! I must admit that this chapter has largely been completed for the better half of a month, but I was being fussy. 
> 
> So, we move into April for our favourite duo.

A Year In Motion: Always in April

o-O-o

‘Carter, I rarely say this. But you’re wrong,’ Jack O’Neill’s eyes gleam with triumph as he stares at her from across the table. 

They sit in a quiet bar, somewhere in downtown Washington where they are least likely to run in to the people they know. More like the people who know them. It’s late in the evening for both of them, and he has an early start tomorrow. 

She has an early plane to catch. 

But it’s been weeks since they’ve seen each other, and even longer since they’ve had more than five minutes to exchange quick words. She has been eyes-deep in research, SG-1 is getting their asses handed to them and Cam has been nagging her to move back to the SGC. 

Jack has been stuck in endless meetings now that there is a new enemy out there. From the reports she’s read, a part of her wishes that they were back trying to kill Apophis. The technology coming back through the gate is so far over her head, she can almost hear the voice of Nareem calling them primitive. 

Sam opens her mouth to respond, braces herself to argue her point in earnest and the word ‘Sir’ very nearly slips out. 

It’s a near-miss that O’Neill catches. Sam sees the grimace flicker over his face. 

‘I am never wrong,’ she smirks, trying to salvage the conversation. Somehow that sentence feels like it needs the Sir at the end of it. 

‘Carter,’ Jack stops swirling the coffee in his cup for a moment, glaring at her above the rim. ‘There is always room for desert.’ 

Sam feels herself smile. 

The lines of tension and uneasiness with their relationship is still present at the corners of their eyes. Sam wonders if she will ever lose the ability to automatically add ‘sir’ to everything. 

It probably doesn’t help that he hasn’t called her ‘Sam’ since their second year in the program. Somehow she thinks that she will always be Carter to him. 

‘Somethin’ on your mind?’ 

His question cuts through her thoughts. 

‘Uh,’ Sam isn’t sure what to say. ‘I was just thinking.’ 

‘I’d be shocked if you ever stopped, Carter.’ 

She ignores his comment and blurts it out. ‘Why do you still call me Carter?’ 

Jack’s face flickers for a moment, and in the candlelight, Sam can’t be really sure of what she saw. The bar is noisy, people are talking loudly and rain echoes off the windows outside. 

It’s the perfect place for a personal conversation. 

She watches with guarded eyes as Jack takes a long bite of his chocolate cake. ‘Just do.’ 

And that’s the end of that. After four months of a different posting, and over eight years serving with each other, it’s amazing how he can still cut her down with just two words. 

Sam averts her eyes, finding the barman washing glasses suddenly more interesting than the man sitting in front of her. The air is tense, and she can feel Jack’s eyes on her. She can help but snort at the delicacy of the situation. If they were anybody else, they’d have been jumping each other the second they got their new commands. 

But this is them. Sam and Jack. And they do everything no other way than the hard way. 

The curse of SG-1. 

Sam shakes her head and turns away. 

‘I should head off.’ 

Jack lays his fork down gently. ‘Carter,’ his voice is softer than normal. The line that had been fading between them is well and truly drawn again. 

Releasing a sigh, she brings her eyes back to him. ‘What are we doing?’ 

The surprise registers in his eyes. He swallows thickly. ‘I don’t think we should talk about this here.’ 

Sam purses her lips and nods. She can almost hear Janet laughing at their awkwardness. 

‘Come on,’ Jack states stiffly. ‘I’ll walk you back.’ 

She stands from her seat, grabbing the backrest as she moves out of the tight space. Jack waits patiently. 

They push through the crowd, and her hand grazes his back. She jumps back at the contact. Heat radiates from his body through his thin shirt. She immediately feels him stiffen. 

A small part of her is smug knowing that she can have that affect on him. She knows that’s why they avoided contact over the years, and why he still calls her Carter. 

It never really helped the situation though, if she’s honest. 

The smell of rain is fresh as they step outside. April is warming up, and the air is slightly humid. Rain drips from the leaves on the trees nearby, and small puddles form on the uneven bits of pavement. 

She leans into him as the walk past the entrance to the bar and head through the nearby park. He’s been here long enough to know the shortcuts back to her hotel. Jack still hasn’t found an apartment. The idea of a city life really isn’t Jack. 

Her lips brush the underside of his jaw, the stubble sending sparks through her as it contacts on her soft skin. 

Jack freezes mid-stride. He turns sharply, grabbing her waist to steady her as he knocks into her. His eyes are locked with hers, brown intensity boring into her. 

‘Carter,’ his voice is low, almost warning. 

She squares her shoulders and arches an eyebrow. ‘Jack?’ 

‘Whatcha doing?’

She stares at his lips. ‘If you have to ask…’

Her words trail off as his other hand comes to grasp her hip. Suddenly she is walking backwards, Jack’s hands guiding her as his eyes focus on her mouth. Her back hits the large oak tree they passed only moments before. 

Her breaths are coming out raspy, she can feel his eyes on her, the twitching of his fingers as he tries to keep his hands still. The rain is coming down in soft, but persistent drops. 

This is such a bad idea. 

A finger moves up and grazes her skin under the soft material of her blouse. She jumps slightly at the contact, but understands the intention. He’s waiting for her.  
On unsteady feet and balancing with a hand on his chest, she leans up and grazes her lips across the side of his mouth. His hands grip tightly, and he pushes into her slightly, shifting his head so his mouth makes full contact with hers. 

He is just as demanding as she knows he would be. The kiss is long and lingering, and he holds her with just enough force that she could move if she really wants to. She can taste the beer on his tongue, the intense chocolate from the dessert he’d been eating and something that’s uniquely him. 

It’s a heady mix and it’s going straight to her head. 

She can hear the raindrops faintly around them, but she doesn’t notice the damp hair strands slowly sinking into her eyes. She can’t hear the footsteps of the people that pass them and pretend not to notice.

Jack moves a hand from her waist, bracing it up against the tree and effectively pinning her in place. Her hands play with the hem of his shirt, the moisture of the rain and sweat from humidity making it easy to glide her hands over his taught muscles.

She needs more. Her back arches off the tree, goosebumps cover her skin. Heat is pooling deep in her stomach. 

Sam groans. 

Jack pulls back just enough to stare at her. His eyes are dark, his brow creased as the drops of water slide down his face. 

They are both breathing hard. 

Her hands are still under his shirt, gripping the top of his jeans. 

‘Carter,’ he starts, trying desperately to control his breathing. ‘I don’t think we should do this here.’ 

It’s the second time in an hour she’s been almost rejected. Suddenly she feels like a teenager, caught by her father on their front porch. She takes a sharp breath, the corners of her mouth curling into an apologetic smile. ‘No, probably not,’ she concedes. 

Jack stares at her, shifting slightly as they both try to ignore the heat between them. ‘What’s this? Samantha Carter admitting she was wrong?’ He pushes back from the tree, allowing Sam to stand up. A smirk crosses his face. 

‘Not quite,’ she smiles as she fixes her blouse. Her hair is a mess, her clothes are wet and she’s starting to freeze. 

But as they walk through the rest of the park, decidedly not touching the other, she can’t help but feel that with each touch, the fears and doubts she had nagging at her were finally starting to wash away. 

o-O-o

They stand in the doorway of her hotel room. They’ve been here before. Jack stands just out of reach, a stark ether of open air between them. He clears his throat. 

Neither of them really know what to do. 

‘We should talk about this,’ she states, an air of confidence in her voice that she sure as hell doesn’t feel. 

‘Carter, we never talk,’ Jack tosses back. 

She looks sad and defeated in the dim light. ‘No I guess not.’ He watches as she moves into the room, reaching the arm chair by the window. 

Her silhouette is outlined in the window, the city lights reflecting of the sharp features in her face. 

Jack moves in the door, and closes it softly behind him. 

‘It’s just,’ he starts, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. ‘Not the right time.’

Sam turns to face him. ‘It never is the right time.’

Jack sighs. ‘No, I guess you are right about that.’

Sam smirks, a rare glimpse of humour in an otherwise dull situation. ‘I’m always right.’ 

They stand, staring at each other. The echo of the cars down on the neighbouring streets are loud in an otherwise silent room. 

‘Will we ever work this out?’ Sam asks sadly. 

‘Sure,’ Jack answers. His tone is light; like he’d just told her that Ori were less of a threat than the Gou’ald ever were. 

He can’t even believe his own lie. 

‘I thought this would be the easy part, you know,’ Sam states, flicking bits of invisible dirt from the back of the arm chair. Her fingers are slender and pale in the dim lights. 

It suddenly strikes Jack that he never once saw her wearing her engagement ring. He wonders briefly were she kept it when she was working. God knows he’d been close enough to her at times to see it was obviously not on her dog tags. 

‘Carter, what we do is never easy.’

She laughs. ‘No, it isn’t.’

The words hang between them. 

He sees her swallow roughly. ‘Do you want to stay tonight?’

The invitation is open, and he isn’t entirely sure what her intentions are. He is still mildly uncomfortable in his pants from their earlier encounter. 

‘Carter,’ Jack pauses, and he can see that she is bracing herself for rejection. ‘I will always be here for you. No matter what.’

God, if that doesn’t sound like rejection, what does? He opens his mouth to correct his error, but Carter beats him to it. 

‘You know, you said that to me once before.’ 

He raises his eyebrows. ‘I have?’

Sam shrugs. Clearly she isn’t going to elaborate, but changes her mind swiftly. ‘When I was on Prometheus.’  
‘Ah.’ 

He knew that she had hallucinated, he’d read the reports. But she’d never told him what they consisted of. Now he is infinitely more curious. 

‘Was I lying?’ 

She gives a small smile, the corners of her mouth edging upwards ever so slightly he was afraid he might have imagined it. 

‘No.’

Her answer is simple, and soft. He’s never let her down, and he isn’t about to start.

‘Carter, as much as I would love nothing more than to stay here with you tonight…’ he trails off, unsure of where to finish it. Rather, unsure of what to say. 

She smiles. ‘You have to work?’ she’s giving him an out, a reason to leave things where they are. Her tone is the same one she’s used before, and Jack finds himself instantly transported back to a concrete room four years earlier, her blatant offer to leave it ‘in the room’ giving him an out even then. 

‘Well, yes I do,’ he answers slowly. 

It’s not a lie

But her lips are pursed, and she’s looking at him expectantly. It’s like she’s suddenly just decided to stop putting words in his mouth. 

How very un-Carter like. 

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing and shuffling his feet. ‘Carter, I’m not really sure what you want me to do here.’

Jack sees her swallow roughly, large blue eyes looking at him completely unguarded here. 

It hits him then that she has no idea either. The two of them are at a complete stale mate. Jack laughs at the irony. He has never been good at talking. 

He sighs and settles for the most hated cliché of all. ‘Carter, when it’s right, it will happen.’ 

Blue eyes twinkle in the dim light, she can see the humour in the otherwise awkward situation and he thinks to himself how can he ever remember a time before he loved this woman. 

She nods silently, fidgeting on her toes as she flicks a bit of dust from the top of the arm chair. 

Jack doesn’t say anything as he leaves that night, and Sam watches him go with hopeful eyes. He doesn’t trust himself to give her a goodbye hug, and he shuffles out the door. 

The next morning, he sits in his office, a cup of coffee steaming on the corner of his desk. An email lies in wait, taunting him to open it as the letters of her name hover on the screen. The time stamp shows it came in before he had even woken for the day; he can imagine her at the airport chewing the inside of her lip as she contemplated all the possible outcomes of sending the email. 

He clicks on the email. 

"Good to know you are still watching out for me. Just don’t watch out too long." 

It’s the closest they’ve come to flirting in years, and a broad smile lines his face. 

He sips his coffee before typing a reply, one finger at a time. 

It’s their word, six letters that mean everything to the two people who had been in the room to hear it whispered not too long ago. But the meaning had been there from the very beginning. 

"Always."


End file.
